


Falling

by amukmuk



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Back Pain, Back Rubs - but the helpful kind, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amukmuk/pseuds/amukmuk
Summary: Riyo helps Fox get over a nasty accident.
Relationships: Riyo Chuchi/CC-1010 | Fox
Comments: 16
Kudos: 144





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a tumblr prompt from the wonderful lilybug: We’re all probably a little bit touch starved and in need of some wholesome Foxiyo #98 (the massages prompt) ♥️ 
> 
> I hope this is what you had in mind, my dear! <3

There is nothing quite like a man in uniform, especially  _ her _ man in uniform. In his plastoid armor, something that should make all the clones, well, identical, Riyo can spot her lover from several clicks away. He has a particular gate, a swagger, that can set him out of a crowd of a thousand brothers. When he is listening, the way he tilts his head sideways colors him more than all the red paint on his armor. The same can be applied for when he speaks; his head tilts downward, moving with the motion of his words. And when he is irate, struggling to keep a lid on the explosion that will undoubtedly happen when he is alone, his shoulders scrunch up to his ears.

All of these little movements express more than any words could ever convey and this is why she knows something is wrong with her commander from first glance. He stalks down the senatorial hall, stiff as a plank. His gate is jolted and the normal swagger of his hips is completely rigid. Excusing herself from a riveting discussion of the weather, Riyo moves towards Fox. 

“Good morning, Commander,” she nods. She hates being this formal, but there are prying eyes around every corner. 

“Senator,” he doesn’t nod. In fact, he sounds as if he is speaking through gritted teeth. 

“Is something wrong?” She whispers. 

“I’m fine,” he bites. 

“You don’t look fine,” she protests mildly. 

“I’m busy,” he snarls, but then sighs. He does this frequently; she thinks this is part of the reason why everyone fears the Great Commander Fox. He tends to lash out at first, and double back when he realizes his actions were unwarranted. And when he doesn’t think they’re unwarranted, well, then he definitely deserves every ounce of fear his presence commands. “I’ll have about an hour around dinner.”

“I’ll meet you in your office.”

She watches him shuffle away, each step stilted and agonizing. 

~

That night, she rushes to his office, ready to strangle him. She may or may not have run into Commander Thire later that day and he may or may not have disclosed that Fox got himself  _ thrown _ off of a building yesterday. He fell three whole stories, luckily getting caught on a closeline halfway through, thus slowing his inevitable descent. While he may not have broken any bones, he had jostled his back to the point where he could hardly move without searing agony. Thire also informed her that he had insisted that Fox go to the medbay but Fox, being the stubborn  _ ass  _ that he is, had refused. 

Well, she certainly has something to say about that. 

“Commander Fox,” she charges in his office, ready to give him an ass chewing of a lifetime when she sees him leaning over his desk, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. With a sigh, her facade is instantly dropped. “What have you done to yourself this time?”

“I’m fine,” he hisses through gritted teeth. 

“You are very clearly not fine. Let me help you,” she murmurs, stepping closer and putting a gentle hand on his arm. “Please?”

He relents. “My back.”

“Yes, Thire told me you had an incident.”

“Fucking bastard, I swear a holonet reporter can keep secrets better than he can.”

“Don’t take it out on him. He cracked under my pressure.”

“He should be able to resist torture. We’re trained for that.”

“Are you saying my questioning borders on that of torture?” She probes. 

He glances up at her without moving his head. “Yes. You make all the strongest men weak in the knees.”

She blushes. “Stop flirting.”

“Sorry… I… have probably had too much to drink,” he motions to the half empty whiskey bottle sitting on his desk that she had failed to notice upon first entering. “I am in a lot of pain.”

“I would suppose so. Come now. Let’s get you on the floor. I’d prefer a cot, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

His eyes widen. “I don’t think now is really the time or place.”

“Commander.” He straightens upon hearing his title. “Get your mind out of the sewer. Now stand up and tell me how to get this backplate off.”

With a little help from her, he rises from his desk chair with a swallowed groan. “It clips to the chest plate. Undo the hinges on my shoulders.” He tries to motion to his shoulders but can’t seem to lift his arms that high. 

Poor man. 

She reaches up and does as he asks and both his chest and back plate fall away. She makes quick work of his pauldrons and then he slips off the armor on his arms. 

“Okay,” she begins. “I’m going to help you down, now. You need to lay on your stomach.”

He tries to nod, but stops short and winces. “Okay.”

Very stiffly, with several sounds of discomfort, Fox makes his way downward and flops on his stomach unceremoniously. He groans. 

“I cannot believe you sometimes,” she mutters as she kneels beside him. 

“I have a job to do,” he grumbles. 

“And you will do a terrible job doing it if you can hardly move. Promise me next time you get thrown from a building you will go to medical?”

He says nothing. 

“Fox?” She prompts. 

“Fine, I promise.”

“Very well,” she flexes her hands and begins at the top of his shoulders. She squeezes and he audibly moans. His shoulders feel like durasteel. “My stars, Fox.” She rotates her thumbs across the muscles, digging in as much as she can. She only stops her movements on his shoulders to prod at his neck… which also feels like it's made of construction-grade material. When she feels that his neck is close enough to relaxed, she moves back to his shoulders and then slowly kneads her way down his back, pawing at both sides of his spine. 

“This feels amazing,” he mumbles into the carpet of his office as she digs into his lower back, working out the kinks there. 

“Clearly I’ve missed my calling,” she smiles even though he can’t see it. She loves when he’s like this, like putty in her hands. When he’s relaxed, she feels like she can mold him, dull some of his sharper edges that have been created by a lifetime of abuse. Through backrubs and unconditional love, she can heal him. 

“Clearly,” he mumbles.

She sits back and rubs out the stiffness in her own hands caused by an hour of massaging her lover’s back. “How does that feel?”

“I have no words.”

Riyo chuckles. “Wow. I’ve left the Great Commander Fox speechless.”

“Not the first time you’ve done that.” She can hear the smile in his voice. 

Slowly, he rolls over so that he is on his back. His face even looks more relaxed, the perpetual crinkle in between his brows now smoothed out. He looks younger. 

She scoots across the carpet so that her back is against the bookshelf in his office and cradles his head in her lap. He needs a haircut. The normal high and tight has grown out so that the top reclaims its natural curls. Gently, she combs her fingers through his hair. 

“Please take better care of yourself,” she murmurs. 

His eyes flutter open and he looks up at her. “I’ll try,” he whispers. 

“I don’t know what I would do without you.” She runs a thumb across his forehead, smoothing down the crinkle that is beginning to take up residence once more. 

Slowly, he moves his hand up to claim hers and pull it down to his chest. “I can’t promise my own safety… I’m meant to be replaceable.”

She hushes him with a finger to his lips. “You’re irreplaceable. You’re my Fox,” she moves her fingers to run across his five o’clock shadow. “I know we live in dangerous times, that none of us, especially you, are guaranteed tomorrow. All I ask is that you try.”

He catches her hand once more and presses a gentle kiss to her palm. “For you, Riyo, I will try.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you have any prompts, or want to come wallow in your foxiyo feels with me on tumblr hit me up @amukmuk.


End file.
